Target Game
by ShinigamiForever
Summary: PG-13 for later content. Trowa, Wufei, and Quatre are scientists who want to create the perfect weapon. some shounen-ai, I dunno. I suck at summaries.
1. Prologue: Light and Dark

Target Game

Target Game

Prologue: Light and Dark

By: ShinigamiForever

Disclaimer: As if you didn't know already, Gundam Wing, its characters, and anything of its likeness does not belong to me. So don't sue me. Not that I have enough money to be sued.

Warnings: None. 

Pairings: None.

"Elapsed time?"

"16 hours, 32 minutes, 48 seconds and counting."

"They've beaten the old record."

"That was a long time ago, Wufei."

"What was the last record?"

"13 hours, 45 minutes, and 14 seconds."

"And that was set by…?"

"Subjects 003TK and 004ZM. Treize Kushrenada and Zechs Merquise."

"Last time gun was fired?"

"None."

"Last time target was aimed?"

"None."

"Kisama. They're playing around!"

"It's a matter of life and death to them. They don't fool with it."

"Is this their true potential? To be able to wear everyone else out?"

"It could be assumed that there is more to their potential."

The boy who first spoke huffed irritably, raking a hand through his black hair that was done in a pageboy style. The fine strands slid between his fingers as he slammed the free hand on the table in the control room. His uniform was a dark forest green shaded with black and decorated with gold details around the cuffs and collar. The other two wore identical uniforms. His midnight eyes narrowed dangerously at the display screen full of numbers and letters dotted along a green computer map. 

A boy with a wedge of brown bangs hanging over his left eye got up, silently, placing a hand on the shoulder of the Chinese. He was taller than the other two, slender and slim, but lethal. The black-haired youth seemed to be more 

hotheaded. Slowly, Wufei relaxed and turned around, face under perfect control. He tipped his head down contritely. 

The last one took off his headset and rubbed his temples. He had brilliant blue-green eyes that seemed weary now, but nonetheless sparkled with enthusiasm. His face was sleek and elegant, but wore an expression of deadly readiness and danger. There was a slack tired expression on his face as he turned to face the other two in the room.

"I'm tired. Someone else take observation."

Wufei cocked his head, amused. "Quatre Raberba Winner, tired? That shan't do. I thought you were trained to be a DataHack."

Quatre scowled, twisting his face. Eyes narrowed at the smirking Chinese boy, an outlet for his frustration. "Damnit, it's not funny. I mean it, Wufei." Hostility dripped from every word and angle of his face. Trowa stood stock still, surprised, while Wufei stuttered a quick apology. The blond sighed, leaning his forehead onto his hands.

"Sorry. It's just that everything was so simple in the beginning, but now the subjects are just way too powerful, and they can do all these stunts that we all thought were humanly impossible. And him with that "Fuck you" attitude and those two can just fight on and on and on until we're all crazy." Wufei nodded in agreement, reaching over gently to pick up the head set. 

Suddenly, the computer beeped urgently, statistics running through at a speed that was hard to follow. Quatre snapped to attention, grabbing the head set from the startled Chinese young man and jammed it on.

"What's wrong?" Trowa said in an agitated voice, peering over the shoulder of the blond boy. 

"Someone just aimed a gun and shot."

"Well?"

"I don't know yet. Just wait."

Interested now? Reviews please! I want to know how I am doing before I post anymore. As always, yours, ShinigamiForever


	2. Target 01: Tiger Lilly

Target Game  
Part 1: Tiger Lilly  
By: ShinigamiForever  
  
===  
A/N: I didn't expect that I'd be writing the rest of this, but I actually got a review for this and that really surprised me, so here it is! Some of these factors are already incorporated into Fin de Siecle, but too bad. If there's anybody reading (which I seriously doubt) I thank you for putting up with me!  
  
-SgF  
===  
  
===  
Happiness  
lies   
somewhere  
In golden depths  
the iris of a cat peers  
questioningly   
into my mind  
I can feel it looking for  
something  
but it is not finding  
For it is looking in the wrong direction  
In  
not   
Out  
  
Happiness  
lies west of the sun  
East of the moon  
North of the stars  
South of the ground  
I have not been to that place yet  
There is a temple with my lover inside...  
they wait for me.  
  
-"Tiger Lilly"  
===  
  
He was tired, but that was not unusual. He usually always was. In the silence of his mind, his racing heart and breath stabbed at him, each footstep sending a blaring flash of weariness. How long had this game gone on? It seemed like a million forevers and infinities. He let part of his mind wander as the other controlled his body, searching for his opponent.  
  
He had run into his target a couple of times during this eternity. But it had only been a catch of black clothing, a strand of chestnut hair floating, or a careless tap of the foot. He knew he had been equally elusive. Their guns were trained on each other, and hidden inside their metaphorical sleeves were secrets they cared not to find out or dispel. He wondered, briefly of course, how many lives had been broken in this maddening search for perfection. Something deeper inside him wondered if he would be one of those lives.  
  
But his rational functioning mind rejected those philosophical and unneeded wanderings of the mind. They were children of his insane folly, running around making havoc in the organized corridors of his brain. How many times had the two sides of his mind conducted war with each other? Too many times, he answered, like a call-and-response song. Too many times.  
  
At first, he thought it was his sight that had gone misty. Evidently something was clouding up his vision. A faint rolling cloud of smoke can into view, or more like blocked out the view. He stood, momentarily vulnerable, as more of the same fog surrounded him. But the realization hit him lightly as a feather. The scientists. The three in uniforms that worked for some higher unseen force. The three that controlled them. They had somehow unleashed this smoke. And in a way, he was glad. The smoke allowed him to rest in between runs, since it clouded up vision. But he realized at the same time that it meant his opponent could sneak up and attack. It would be so much like Duo.  
  
He continued running between the walls and hiding behind obstacles of the controlled gaming environment. There was a reason they paired him up with Duo. He and the American knew each other's attacks like a second nature. They could guess at a strategy that the other would use and would have up to a 98% chance of being right. They fought like shadows, walking in a circle around each other, no one attacking, no one defending. They left themselves open, yet closed, weak, yet protected. The opposites of each other, the mirrors of each other. Perfect complements.  
  
And yet...  
  
And yet, he thought bitterly. The words came unbidden to his mind. He tasted them on his tongue, but not with his voice. It was not a good thing to go wandering around memory lane in the midst of a battle. That was usually met with an unfavorable end. He did what he had been trained to do. He shut off the emotional side and only let the rational side function.  
  
It was not the act that bothered Heero.  
  
It was the fact that he could do it with such ease and comfort.  
  
***  
  
"It _is_ partially your fault, Trieze."  
  
"Mine?!" The ginger-haired man's voice was the perfect mix of shock and indignation.  
  
"Yes, it is, you might as bloody well admit it!"  
  
"Come now, Zechs, what did I do to induce such a tedious showdown?" Kushrenada looked at his partner with a type of innocent curiosity unfitting for a man of his age. Suddenly, the rage drained out of the lighter blond's body.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I just... I..." He felt himself slump tiredly against the chair he was sitting in, eyes glued morosely to the computer screen that showed a composite of surveillance footage from the battle that was commencing as they spoke. Warm sure hands flew up to massage his shoulders, easing out the knots and strains. "Thanks," he managed weakly, fighting back the incredibly childish urge to cry.  
  
Trieze watched the footage with a frown, eyeing the Japanese youth as he slunk, sure-footed, around the various obstacles in the combat room. Another surveillance camera relayed images of the shadowy American who seemed to always appear a few moments apart from Heero. "Don't you think it's about time something's happened?"  
  
A small chuckle came from beneath him. "I think it's been way past time." Zechs slid himself out of the soothing grasp that was still on his shoulders. Reluctantly, Trieze let him go. He wanted the physical contact with the other man, if only just to ease his turbulent emotions.  
  
"They've broken our record," he remarked, walking over to his bed and spreading himself over it. The feeling of the soft mattress beneath calmed him slightly, and he placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the uninteresting ceiling. His breathing was calm and regular, quiet in the room filled with cooing buzzing and soft whispers of machines. He quickly cast a glance over at Zechs who was currently lounging in the swivel chair next to the computer terminal.  
  
"Jealous?" the light-haired man asked, turning the chair to face the reclining figure on the bed. Another curious glance was thrown his way, followed by a soft bout of laughter.  
  
"Not at all." For a moment, none of them spoke, Trieze still lying on the bed and Zechs still turned to watch him. Suspended between them, almost tangible in that moment, was a web of silver words and thoughts, threaded up into a single net. Any other person would have found themselves trapped in it, but these two danced in the map of twisting strands that wrapped them closer to each other. The earlier conversation wove itself into the picture, bathed in shadows and ambiguity. For some reason, both speakers had a feeling their words were talking to each other with some deeper meaning none of them understood.  
  
The moment was broken by Zechs turning himself back to look at his computer. A soft sound of frustration escaped from the man on the bed. They both chose to ignore it.  
  
***  
  
Duo hid himself in the fog and shadows as he finally began to approach his target. Painfully slow, he took silent steps in an uneven pattern. There was a faint buzzing in the background of his mind, low and comforting. There was smoke in the air, a kind of static shock that clung to the body. Smoke and mirrors, he thought cynically. It was a smoke and mirror battle.   
  
He caught site of Heero standing in a small alcove in the walls, partially hidden by an array of obstacles, gun held in a ready position, silent and waiting. His back was turned slightly away from Duo and he was looking to one side, ears pressed against the wall. Duo knew that tactic. Vibrations sometimes traveled through the wall. Heero, with his sensitive ears, could pick up the slightest footfalls. But he, with his shifting postures and light feet, could tiptoe through that noise. He smiled with a feral expression before springing into a soft quiet run.  
  
It was in that flash of metal and light that he realized his mistake. Later, as he was flat on the ground with Heero's gun pressed flat against his forehead, he found out how obvious it was, how foolish he was to fall into that trap. So easy, so ingenious of Heero. So stupid of him. In the few seconds he had been running towards his target, he forgot the angle Heero was turned at. He had been looking to one side, allowing the edges of his eyes to pick up motion. Duo, in his hurry to finish the game and his weariness, had overlooked the poise of his partner, and thus had blindly stumbled into his trap.  
  
He watched the brilliant flints of blue light look at him from above, his arms pinned to the side by forceful hands. Heero's ray gun was nudged with a soft pressure into his left temple. His breath was easy, and he laughed, breathless with the exhilaration of resignation.   
  
"Looks like you won," he whispered, turning his face away from the youth above him. He saw with the corners of his eye the expression on Heero's face change.  
  
"I haven't fired yet," the other answered, his voice just as soft. To others who knew him less, it would sound indifferent, cold and aloft. But to Duo, who knew him almost better than he knew himself, could hear traces of doubt and hesitation in that tone.  
  
Duo fought back a laugh, his chest constricting with the uneasiness of having body weight above him. A trickle of sweat ran down the temple opposite of the gun. He watched as the finger slowly lowered on the trigger.   
  
There was no crack of a bullet flying, obviously, since it was all laser and tracking devices.  
  
But the silence and absence were loud and buzzing in both of their ears.  
  
***  
  
"Subject 01. He fired his gun."   
  
The other two scientists slid into their chair, exhausted. Trowa continued to type information into his computer, keeping an eye on Quatre who looked weary and still irritated. Within seconds the ear-and-mouth piece flew off, landing on the table beside the monitors and the blond DataHack. Wufei watched the monitor as it blinked awake before shaking his head and laughing to himself, body trembling with contained chuckles.  
  
"What?" Trowa asked, lifting an eyebrow and regarding the black-haired scientist. The Chinese young man turned his head over his shoulder, gesturing to his computer.  
  
"Come take a look." The two others walked over to Wufei's monitors and peered curiously at the screen.  
  
The image was a montage of surveillance shots that had just been sent to the scientists. They were all focused on the two forms of Duo and Heero, still sprawled out on the floor, the former pinned to the ground like a butterfly by the latter. Trowa stood back, a slight curve on his lips, while Quatre snorted, then burst out into giggles.  
  
"That must be uncomfortable for Duo," he said after his laughing fit. Wufei's eyes twinkled, relief and a wash of satisfaction flowing onto his facial expression. Trowa turned his attention back to his work, rubbing his temples in fatigue.  
  
"I'm sure it is," answered the Asian, leaning back into his chair.  
  
The three continued finishing up their work.  
  
~To be continued (maybe)~  
  
So, that's that. Anyway, um... yeah... reviews? Maybe? Possibly? A trace of hope? 


End file.
